


Aesthetic Appreciation

by theappleppielifestyle



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: “Nice shirt, Stark.”It’s Natasha, sounding strangely- smug, maybe?- for reasons Tony doesn’t much care to know.“I know,” Tony says, not opening his eyes. He tilts his head back, lets out a satisfied sigh and rearranges himself on the chair. The sun climbs another inch of his abs when his shirt rides up with the motion.Today’s a good day,Tony thinks contentedly, and continues sucking lazily on the popsicle.(Or, Tony wears a crop top. Steve, among other people, notices.)





	Aesthetic Appreciation

Steve is already out for his run when Tony wakes up, which is disappointing. Tony had half-formed hopes of spending his day off lounging around in bed with his boyfriend.

He rolls onto his back. “Jarvis, how long has Steve been running?”

“I believe he should be halfway through his route now, Sir.”

Tony makes a noise in the back of his throat. His ever-racing mind has caught onto the fact that they’re conscious again, so there’s no way he’s going to be able to stay in bed for another hour waiting for Steve to get back.

Instead he climbs out of bed and heads for the shower. As he turns his face into the hot spray, he considers the day splayed out in front of him. Thanks to running SI and being an Avenger- which turns out to be too much like another full time job- he hasn’t been able to steal a whole day off in over a month.

He briefly considers the workshop, but decides against it. His tablet should be enough for today: unless Godzilla attacks, he’s determined to have a lazy day hanging around the Tower.

Given the spirit of the day, he searches his drawers for his most comfortable summer clothes. He finds his favourite black yoga pants first, which have so far been used for yoga exactly once a decade ago before turning into his lazing-around pants. Then he finds an old MIT shirt, the one that cuts off just above his navel. It had been a practical joke by Rhodey, one that backfired wholeheartedly, and he feels himself smile as he pulls it on.

As he makes his way to the door, he catches himself in the mirror and pauses. He’s been a fan of crop-tops for decades, and while he doesn’t make a habit of wearing them in public he can definitely rock one around the Tower. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s put on some muscle since turning to the superhero gig; muscle that shows in the small, straining sleeves of the shirt and the long strip of stomach showing below where the shirt stops.

Also-

He tilts himself at an angle in the mirror. Another reason why he likes these pants- comfortable and  _very_  flattering to what Pepper once dubbed his ‘bubble butt’ while tipsy at a fundraiser. She had tried to take it back and refused to acknowledge it the next day, but Tony had taken it and is still rolling with it.

“Not bad for forty-three,” he says aloud.

JARVIS makes a noise that isn’t unlike a throat clearing. “Forty-four, Sir.”

“Lies and slander,” Tony says mildly, and heads out to sprawl on the couch for the foreseeable future, or at least until he gets hungry enough to get up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forty minutes later, he’s warming himself into a pleasant stupor in a sunning chair that someone carried over from a balcony a week ago. Food isn’t a problem and won’t be until Bucky stops handing him popsicles, or if Tony’s body starts doing this annoying thing where it starts protesting if he doesn’t eat anything of substance after 12 hours or so. He must be getting old.

“Thanks,” Tony says when Bucky passes and presses another popsicle into his hand. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes as he brings it to his mouth- partly out of laziness and partly so he can get a nice surprise at finding out the flavour. This one’s cherry, which is his second-favourite after apple, which he’s already had two of.

A new voice joins the low hum of chatter, which is muffled under the background noise of the TV. “Nice shirt, Stark.”

It’s Natasha, sounding strangely- smug, maybe?- for reasons Tony doesn’t much care to know.

“I know,” Tony says, not opening his eyes. He tilts his head back, lets out a satisfied sigh and rearranges himself on the chair. The sun climbs another inch of his abs when his shirt rides up with the motion.

_Today’s a good day_ , Tony thinks contentedly, and continues sucking lazily on the popsicle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steve is still panting by the time he makes it to the communal floor of the Tower. It’s one of those days where he finds himself crossing the road so he can be on the shady side while he runs.

He heads up to the bathroom. Tony isn’t in the bedroom when he cuts through it to get the shower, which means he’s up oddly early for a day off, but Steve doesn’t think much of it as he strips down and washes the sweat off him, changing into a fresh set of civvies and placing his workout clothes into the washbasket.

“JARVIS,” he says as he heads to the elevator. “Where is everyone?”

“Apart from Thor, the Avengers are all in the communal lounge, Captain.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.” Steve pockets his hands and steps in the elevator. They’re probably watching another season of Community, or whatever sitcom they’re ploughing through this month. Last month it was Friends, which Steve expected to take longer, but they managed to get through ten seasons in record time.

Steve is trying to remember what the last episode of Community he’d seen when he steps out into the communal lounge and spots most of his team spread out over two couches and a chair. The TV is on- Community, and definitely not an episode Steve has seen- but no-one seems to be watching it apart from a long-suffering Bruce. Natasha, Clint and Bucky are all twisted to the side so they can watch something near the windows.

“Hey,” Steve says as he approaches. “What’s-”

His words die on his tongue as he registers what the three of them are staring at. Tony has his hands propped behind his head as he dozes in his sunning chair, which allows him to stretch out as much as he wants. Steve’s eyes trace down the full display of Tony’s body before he can stop himself- the muscles in his arms are bunched with the motion of linking his fingers together behind his head; then there’s the always pleasing frame of his shoulders, the familiar glow of the reactor, and below that-

Steve’s throat clicks. He can’t remember what these kind of shirts are called- Natasha definitely told him at some point, but he’s having trouble remembering anything right now- but whatever it is, it’s showing off the defined lines of Tony’s stomach.

Steve’s eyes continue to drag down- as well as a hint of a happy trail, the devastating cut of Tony’s hips are showing above the low-riding line of those tight, stretchy black pants that Steve loves seeing him in. He  _definitely_ knows-

_Yoga pants_ , he thinks faintly. Those, he can remember.

He tears his gaze away long enough to look over at the teammates that had been staring. They had looked up when they noticed Steve coming in, but are now back to- ogling is right, Steve finds himself thinking.  _Ogling_  his boyfriend.

“Hi, Steve,” Natasha says in a tone that screams knowing.

Steve tries to wrestle the irrational jealousy off his face. Judging by Natasha’s smile- which is small, but Natasha herself is proof that ‘small’ is by no definition harmless- he doesn’t succeed.  

“Uh-huh,” he says as he heads to the couch and fits himself onto the arm of the chair. “Do you mind?”

“Mind what,” Clint asks, not taking his gaze from Tony’s abs.

Steve slaps him on the shoulder. “Eying up your friend! And- and you’re both straight,” he says, lowering his voice at Clint and Bucky.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it,” Bucky says, in unison with Clint saying, “Ehhhh” and waving his hand in the air as a ‘kinda, maybe’ gesture.

Steve narrows his eyes at them. Bucky is looking at him with such innocence that has to mean he’s screwing with Steve.

“What,” Bucky says. “You gotta admit that’s a body to appreciate.”

“I do find myself appreciating it at times,” Steve says dryly.

Bucky grins. He’s opening his mouth to say something that will, going by how the talk is going, make Steve want to slap him, when Tony’s voice comes from across the room.

“’s Steve back?”

Steve turns. “Hi! I’m- yes.”

Tony sits up on his chair, groggy and gorgeous. He stretches, and Steve feels his eyes drop to the long space between Tony’s shirt and his pants. Jesus.

Tony yawns. Steve resolutely doesn’t watch the pink flash of his mouth.

“It’s far too hot to run, are you crazy?”

“I did start regretting my decision around an hour in,” Steve admits.

Beside Steve, Clint slings his arms over the back of the couch. “Hey, Tones!”

“Mm,” Tony says, still seemingly half-asleep.

Clint holds up a popsicle. “Another?”

“Mm!” Tony holds out his hands and lets out a cry of success when he catches the wrapped popsicle Clint lobs at him. He starts to unpeel it and Steve catches the matching expressions of the three people on the couch next to him.

“What,” Steve says.

Clint motions wordlessly towards Tony.

“Fourth one today,” Bucky says, eyes fixed on Tony’s mouth- which, Steve realizes with a jolt, is overly red, almost lipstick-red, the kind of red Steve has come to associate with blowjobs after starting up his relationship with Tony months ago.

Steve thinks about telling them to quit it, but then gets distracted when Tony starts sucking on the end of the popsicle, fitting one hand back behind his head and leaning back in the chair as he does it. He can feel his face reddening along with Tony’s mouth as he turns back to the couch-goers.

“Quit it.”

“Hey Tony,” Bucky calls, ignoring Steve. “Pass me that book?”

Tony looks around and stretches sideways to reach for the book on the side-table next to him. The motion gives them a glimpse of Tony’s chest as the material hangs away from his skin, and Steve catches a pink flash of nipple before Tony throws the book towards Bucky, then leans back into the chair and closes his eyes.

Steve vindictively hopes that the book smacks Bucky in the face, but Bucky catches it seamlessly with his metal hand. “Thanks, doll.  _Really_  appreciate it.”

“Yeah, okay, no,” Steve says. “Tony, do you mind?”

Tony is busy finishing his popsicle. “Mind what,” he calls as he licks the last red traces from the stick. He opens his eyes and blinks rapidly when he sees Steve coming towards him. “Uh, hi- okay,” he says, accepting Steve’s hand to haul him up and away. “We’re going now, apparently, bye guys.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Steve says, then: “Not you, them,” when Tony looks at him in confusion. Steve jerks his head back towards the jackals behind him- plus Bruce, who is still staring determinedly at the screen in the closest spot he can get to without getting up and standing in front of the TV.

“What do you have against them,” Tony asks as Steve takes him out into the hall. “Do we not like them now, because that might be kind of- oh- oh, shit,  _okay_ , this is happening-”

He trails off with a bark of laughter that cuts off sharply into a moan as Steve’s mouth finds the sensitive spot on his neck, pressing Tony against the wall and circling his arms around him, finding the edges of that damn shirt and pressing his fingers to the bare skin underneath it.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Tony says, tilting his head to give Steve better access. “This is actually how I was hoping this was hoping this morning would go- can I ask what brought this on or do I just hold on for the ride-”

“They were staring at you,” Steve says, running his hands down Tony’s bare back now; along his shoulders, down his arms, pressing him gently but firmly against the wall. He tugs Tony’s ear with his teeth and feels a gasp against his skin as he continues, “You’re- you’re so gorgeous like this, in these clothes- you’re gorgeous all the time, but god,  _Tony_. That goddamn shirt.”

Tony grins. “Glad to know I’m appreciated,” he says, but that only prods Steve further.

“They kept- they were  _looking_  at you. Only I should get to look at you like that. You’re-”

He stops himself before he can say it, because he can hear how ridiculous he sounds already. But Tony makes a noise in his throat, still at first, but then he pushes harder against him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Fucking right. All yours, Captain. How’s about you take me upstairs and prove it?”

Steve pulls back far enough to meet his eyes. Tony is flushed, his skin blood-warm from the sun and now from his rising pulse, his mouth red from the popsicle and now from Steve’s biting kisses. His chest is heaving against Steve’s.

Steve touches the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Mine,” he says.

Tony’s eyelids shudder to half-mast. “Thought we already established that. Aren’t you going to-”

He barely manages to swallow a gleeful yelp as Steve scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way to the elevator.

 

 

 

 

 

Tony wanders his way to consciousness hours later. When he cracks his eyes open, the first thing he spots is his MIT shirt crumpled along with his yoga pants on a heap on the floor. He can feel himself grin into the pillow- that shirt is going to get worn every Steve-related opportunity he has from now on.

He turns his head when he hears a faint snore. Steve is still dozing next to him, naked on top of the sheets, sun streaming through the windows onto his bare skin.

Tony sighs and falls back into the bed.  _Today’s a good day_ , he thinks, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> here's my [tumblr](http://theappleppielifestyle.tumblr.com/).


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